A New Home
by JessiRose96
Summary: <html><head></head>English Shadowhunter Ali Carstairs is forced to move to the New York Institute when the London Institute is mysteriously burned down. This is my 1st fanfic so...my summary's not all that great. Will fix all typos when I submit next chapter. :  Enjoy</html>
1. Chapter 1

Staring out the window of the plane, sixteen-year-old Ali Carstairs sighed. She didn't want to be in New York. She wanted to be back in London, back at _her_ Institute, not some Institute run by people she'd never even met. But no. Now that her parents were dead and the London Institute burned to the ground, the Enclave had sent her away to New York. She had begged them to let her stay with one of them, or even in an Institute somewhere else in Europe, where she knew people. She'd even cut her normally long, silvery blond hair in protest. It had been no use. They'd sent her away, with only a stele to her name. Ali hadn't cried. A good Shadowhunter didn't cry. Instead, she merely watched, stony-faced, as she was driven away from the ruins of her home.

She knew the Lightwoods had been in Idris for the battle against Valentine, but she hadn't bothered herself with trying to meet them. She'd been too preoccupied with trying to survive. The binding rune the Clarissa girl had drawn on her hand had left faint lines, and now she stared down at them with curiosity. Whoever she was, Ali thought, she was certainly very talented. The plane gave a little bump, and she realized she'd missed the call to put on her seatbelt. She gripped the back of the seat behind her tightly, bumping around as the plane touched ground. Grabbing her messenger bag that had a few necessities that were saved from the fire, she stepped off the plane and into the airport.

Glancing around once, Ali didn't see any signs with her name. Of course there wouldn't be any signs. This wasn't the movies, and she wasn't a mundane who didn't know how to go anywhere without a map. She would find the Institute herself. Spinning on her heel, she began marching outside to hail a taxi, when she ran straight into a boy. Huffing, she took a step back and looked into the eyes of one of the most beautiful boys she'd ever seen.

Golden blond hair brushed his eyebrows, which rose as he looked Ali over. She could see the faint scars on his arms, his muscles showing quite attractively through a black t-shirt and jeans. His eyes were tawny, and he looked thoroughly amused at her appearance. Putting a hand in his pocket, he arched an eyebrow at her.

"_You're_ Aline Carstairs?" He sounded as though he didn't believe it. Ali gritted her teeth, her left hand curling into a fist.

"Yes," she said stoically, her gaze hard as she looked at the boy with her cool gray eyes, "and who are you?"

"Jace. Jace Lightwood," he smirked a bit, "Maryse thought it'd be helpful if I showed you to the Institute." Maybe Americans weren't all bad, thought Aline. She forced herself to be polite.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." Her grip tightened on her bag. Jace stood there for a moment, looking at her, then cleared his throat.

"You certainly don't sound like it. Tell me, are all English people this unwillingly to accept help?" He leaned on a column, his hands in his pockets, looking at Ali with amused curiosity.

"Are all Americans this annoying?" She snapped, pushing past him and walking by. He'd picked the wrong time to mess with her. She could already hear her mother's French accent chiding her about being so rude, but she couldn't help it. She just wanted to lay down and cry, but she wouldn't let him see her do it. Not this stranger. Ali heard Jace jog up behind her, but he obviously got the sense she was done talking to her, and led her to the Institute without another word.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Run, Aline! Hurry!" I could hear my mother's frantic voice screaming at me from upstairs. The Institute, my home, was burning all around me. How could this have happened? Who'd done this to us? I heard a scream and a crash, and then silence mingled with the crackling of the flames._

_ "Mum?" I yelled at the top of my lungs, trying to run upstairs. My foot went through one of the steps and I bit back a yelp of pain. I tried jerking myself from the hole but it wasn't working. I was stuck. I wiggled around and felt my stele in my back pocket, taking it out and drawing a quick rune on the ground. I lifted my foot up easily. There. I was free. Grabbing hold of the stair rail, I kept running upstairs. The hallway was burning and I couldn't see through the flames that well. Squinting, I called for my mother again, this time in French. I heard nothing. I called for my father. Silence._

_ There was a hissing noise behind me and I turned quickly, gasping at what seemed to be a demon. I backed up, looking around for a weapon. But it wasn't attacking me. It was talking to me, his horrible, low, hissing voice smooth as poison and twice as deadly. _

_ "Your fault…" it kept saying, "Your fault…" I shook my head, trying to shout over it but my voice wasn't working. I knew it was right. It had stopped walking towards me now and was still talking, but I hadn't stopped backing up. I saw it give me a nasty smile, its fangs dripping with poison and blood. It lunged at me then and I gasped, falling backwards._

Ali woke with a gasp, panting, her forehead covered in sweat. It was happening again, the nightmares. It was the same one over and over again, with different variations at times. She was always in the burning house, but sometimes she'd watch her father die before hearing her mother's screams. Sometimes she'd try to save her cat, Midnight, from being engulfed in the flames. And sometimes the dream would start with that morning, when a mysterious stranger showed up at her front door, asking for her help. But she couldn't help waking with the same feeling every time. Guilt. It stirred in her stomach and made her sick. She was to blame for her parents' deaths, for the burning of her Institute.

_The Institute. _Ali looked around and blinked for a second. _But that's impossible,_ she thought, _it burned to the ground._ And so it had. Everything came back to Ali then. _I'm not in my Institute, _she told herself. _I'm in a new, strange place. _She fought back the lump that formed in her throat as she thought this, looking at the time to occupy herself. It was one in the morning, and she was wide awake. Lovely. Ali lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, humming the lullaby her mother used to sing to her under her breath.

"_Moon river, wider than a mile…_

_I'm crossing you in style, someday._

_Oh dream maker, you heart breaker…_

_Where ever you're going, I'm going your way."_

She sighed restlessly. It wasn't working. Well, as long as she was up, she should go try and get the feel of the Institute. Getting out of bed, she quickly strode across the room to her small bag and pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweater that she'd borrowed from an Enclave member. The Lightwood girl, Isabelle, had promised to take her shopping. Somehow, she didn't look forward to it at all. She'd never really liked shopping in the first place. She flattened down her silvery hair and sighed at how pale her skin was. _I suppose I can't help genetics_, she thought, and opened her door quietly. Poking her head out into the hallway, she was comforted at how similar this Institute and her Institute looked at night.

Her bare feet padded along on the thickly carpeted floor. There was a sudden hiss in the dark and she gasped as a large gray cat stepped out of the shadows. Ali couldn't help but smile a little. She loved animals. Her mother always called her "the animal whisperer" because of her way with animals. She was always taking in pets and nursing them back to health, then releasing them back into the wild. Crouching down the cat's level, Ali held out her hand.

"Hello, little one," she whispered, "I won't hurt you." The cat looked at her imperiously, then strutted over and bumped his nose against her fingertips, brushing himself up against her hand. Ali sighed with relief and sat down, the cat crawling into her lap. She petted him slowly, hearing his low purr. She managed a small smile, comforted by this sound, however little it was. Ali sat like this for awhile, just petting the cat, when she heard muffled footsteps behind her. Immediately she pushed the cat out of her arms and stood up, twisting around on her ankle. She heard a chuckle.

"It's okay," a boy's voice said, clearly amused. "It's just me." _Oh._ It was the blond boy, Jace. Ali relaxed, somewhat. He made her uncomfortable.

"What're you doing up?" Jace asked, examining her with amused and curious eyes. _Go ahead, Ali, tell him you had a nightmare and that you're sickened with yourself. That'll make you seem like a great Shadowhunter. _

"I could ask you the same thing," Ali said, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. Jace was the only person she'd ever met that was taller than her, and she didn't like it at all. He seemed to like this answer, and shrugged.

"I heard noises, and then Church purring and wondered what on Earth he was doing that about. He never purrs," he looked at the cat, then at Ali. "You have a way with animals."

"So I've been told," she said tightly, wondering what he was getting at.

"Well, if you can't sleep, I could always give you a tour. If you like. I've got nothing better to do, and I don't think you do either." He smiled at her. He did have a point. She didn't have anything better to do, and she didn't want to seem like she wasn't up to the challenge of carrying on a conversation with someone as frustrating as he was.

"Okay," she said slowly. "Why not?" Jace turned on his heel and started down the hall, and Ali had no choice but to follow.


End file.
